


Blood for Light

by VictimofNostalgia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Character(s), Assassin - Freeform, Chronic Illness, Gen, Race Against Time, basically an OC introduction fic, gender neutral pronouns for pidge, original alien race
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9171523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictimofNostalgia/pseuds/VictimofNostalgia
Summary: A deal made with the Galra Emperor ends up being more than Margo bargained for. Her life force held hostage and with a life-threatening condition catching up to her, the Illarian assassin has one month to bring the Emperor the heads of the Altean Princess and her Paladins before her life withers away.





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Who wants more OCs??? Probably no one, but you're getting her anyway. 2017 is my year for sharing OCs with the world, and Margo is one of my favorites, considering I created an entire alien race around her. I'll be sticking little facts about the Illarians and their home planet in the notes below each chapter. I've got three chapters lined up for posting, so keep an eye out for those very soon.

The conquest of the Galra empire was a swift one. The destruction of Altea was the first domino, and when it fell the cascade was unstoppable. From Altea the Galra captured the Balmera, harvesting the crystals until the great beasts began to wither. After the Balmera, the Galra went for Illarus. Its people cowered as Galra warships blackened the skies, struggled as entire cities were carted away, fought as they took control of the refineries and storage facilities, watched in defeat as the canisters of their precious life energy were seized. After that, the universe didn't stand a chance.

Without the crystals from the Balmera and the light from the Illarians, worlds began to buckle beneath Zarkon's heel.

That was what brought Margo here, handing over the photo of her latest kill in exchange for a receipt. 100,000 GAC transferred into her account for the blood of the Mu of Kandis Quadrant splashed all over his living room wall. She left as silently as she came, hood pulled up over the graying color of her hair, not offering so much as a 'thank you'. There was no room for pleasantries out here, not in the markets where there were people huddled in the alleys waiting to stick a knife in your back. Margo kept a hand on her sidearm just in case, glaring coldly at anyone who looked at her funny. And there were plenty who did; it wasn't everyday that they saw an Illarian walking free, much less one that looked so ashen and deprived of their typical vibrant color. At least the long barrel of the sniper rifle sticking up over her shoulder was enough to deter anyone who thought to bring it up.

She ducked into a stall down one of the shadier rows, itching to finish her business. The vendor behind the desk smiled a greedy, toothy grin as she threw her card onto the counter.

“Ah, I was wondering when you'd be back,” he said in an oily voice, taking the card between his scaly fingers. “I take it you just got back from a little head hunting?”

Margo leveled a steely stare. “The canister, Ajax, I'm on a time table,” she grumbled, fingering the strap of her sniper rifle. Ajax's eye caught the movement and his grin tightened around the edges. He knew the weapon wasn't just for show, if her notoriety was to be believed.

“Relax, hot shot,” he replied nonchalantly, though his voice wavered just enough for Margo to know she had gotten her point across. “You know Old Ajax wouldn't leave you high and dry. You're one of my best customers, after all.” He reached down and pulled out a tube two fingers thick and three hands long and wrapped in black cloth. He held it just out of her reach, appraising it critically while he slid her card. The register chimed a little happy tune partially discordant from age as it drained the credits from her account. She held out her hand expectantly and Ajax's mouth pinched. It was with some reluctance that he placed the tube in her hand, As soon as her fingers closed around it she snatched up her card and swept out of the stall, hearing Ajax call something sickly-sweet and condescending after her.

With the canister clutched in her hand, Margo wound her way back through the maze of the marketplace. When she finally found a corner where she believed no one would see her, she tucked herself into the shadows and unwrapped the tube. A brilliant white glow erupted from beneath the cloth and set her eyes to watering. Her hands shook as she undid the clasps of her coat, pushing aside the fabric to uncover the foggy, dull red crystal that was imbedded in the rough gray skin of her chest. This close to the canister she could nearly taste the energy on her tongue. She licked her lips, stilled her hands, and pressed the port end of the canister against the crystal, pushing down on the opposite end with her thumb.

Immediately the canister began to drain, the white light siphoning into the crystal, vaporizing the fog and restoring it to a vibrant, bloody red. Margo sighed with relief as energy pooled into her failing body, chasing the gray from her hair, bleeding into the pale sclera of her eyes and setting her fingers and toes to tingling. She dropped the now empty canister to the ground, buttoned up her coat and took a deep breath, allowing herself a small smile. She felt reborn, less like she was dying and more like she was living. Adjusting the shoulder strap of her rifle, she stepped back out into the street.

A hand on her shoulder stopped her and Margo immediately jerked away, hand flying to her sidearm. The hand retreated, held up in a placating gesture. Its owner was shrouded beneath a black cloak, hood drawn up to cast its features into darkness.

“Margoshi of Illarus?” they rumbled in a deep masculine voice.

Margo didn't speak, hand still clenched around her sidearm. They knew her name. Perhaps they were a client. She nodded in affirmation but didn't take her hand off her weapon.

Light glinted off a pointed tooth as the stranger grinned. He lifted his head just enough for Margo to see beneath the hood. Her breath caught at the sight of deep purple skin and glowing yellow eyes.

Galra.

He smiled, edging on menacing. “The Empire has a job for you.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 1

The shuttle trip was a tense one. Margo sat on one side, clutching her sniper rifle to her chest, staring at the wall above the shoulders of the two Galra soldiers opposite her. Part of her couldn't believe that she had agreed to take this job. The Galra were a big part of the reason why she was living like she was. If it hadn't been for them she wouldn't be running around the edges of the universe, putting bullets in peoples' skulls to pay for what she needed to live.

But it wasn't like she could do anything about that now. As much as she despised the Galra they owned everything, including an unlimited supply of the Illarian energy canisters that kept her alive. If she did this job for them, perhaps they could fill her need. If not well... she was probably dead anyway.

Beyond that, she couldn't help but wonder what the mighty, ruthless Galra Empire needed a freelance assassin for. Not that she doubted her own skills, but if something was giving them problems than she wasn't sure if she could do much better. Perhaps they had a need for some discretion; it wasn't exactly their strong suit, what with their giant battle cruisers and all. That had to be it. With that logic firm in her mind, Margo was able to loosen her grip at least a little bit. If things went south, she didn't think it would be too difficult to kill her escorts and ditch the shuttle somewhere in the Outer Rim.

Her eyes drifted out the window as the Galra flagship drifted into view. The massive craft dwarfed even the battle cruisers that clustered in its shadow. The populations of entire planets could have stood on its bow. It made Margo feel so small, and that feeling of dread coiled in her chest again. Light was blotted out as the shuttle passed the flagship's belly and once more her fingers clenched down on the body of her rifle.

The hold rumbled as the shuttle docked and her two escorts stood, gesturing for her to go first. Margo gave them a weary side-eye, slung her weapon back over shoulder and strode down the ramp into the bustling hangar of the Galra flagship. Smaller fighters were lined up 5 deep and 1,000 long through the expanse of the hangar and Margo couldn't help but be a little awed. Never in any of her travels had she seen such a huge collection of fire power, and not even the sprawling deep space markets could compare to the sheer scale. And this was just one part of the whole thing.

The soldiers beckoned her and she ripped her eyes from looking at the ceiling so far above to follow them. They lead her out of the hangar and into a long corridor, lit eerily by violet lights along its length. Galra peered at her suspiciously as she passed, but she kept her chin up and walking without sparing them a glance. She was a bit shorter than the typical Galra, but that had never stopped her before. Though, the looks were starting to become unnerving as the corridors went on and on, passing through halls and atriums that put the old palaces to shame. Margo wasn't used to having so many people see her. She normally made it her business to make sure they didn't. Feeling unusually self conscious, she reached up to make sure her hood was still firmly in place.

Her feet were beginning the ache as they finally led her to a set of enormous doors. One of the guards posted on the side approached her, holding out his hands.

“You are to surrender your weapons before meeting with Emperor Zarkon,” he commanded. Margo's face twisted and her hand tightened around her shoulder strap. She didn't like when other people touched her weapons. Her escorts laid their hands on their own sidearms. Margo sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, and pushed the rifle into the guard's hands. She smirked as he stumbled under its surprising weight, but felt it falter when he still stood expectant.

“ _All_ of your weapons,” he growled.

Damn, they were smarter than they looked. Margo huffed and unclipped the sidearm from her waist, handing it over. It was quickly followed by her grappling hook, her shield generator, a pouch full of small proximity mines and a belt of concussion grenades. The expression on the guard's face had morphed into bewilderment as she piled weapon after weapon into his arms. When it seemed as though she was done he opened his mouth to let her through, but she held up a finger, bent down, pulled an eight inch knife from the inside of her boot, and placed it on top of the heap.

“Now I'm done,” she told him. The guard blinked, seemed to have found himself, and nodded to her escorts. As they moved to open the door she shot him a sharp look. “Don't drop those,” she warned him and was satisfied as she watched his throat dip in a nervous swallow. Hydraulics hissed as the doors slid smoothly open and Margo followed her escorts into the throne room without another word.

Entering the throne room was like stepping into another world. The hall was enclosed in glass so that the bulk of the Galra fleet could be seen floating out in the void of space, silhouetted against the light of a nearby star. The floor was perfectly smooth segmented metal, dark purple that almost seemed to absorb the violet lights burning in the lamps in the pillars. The hall itself was large enough to house a village. And at the other end, was Zarkon.

A shiver of unease crawled down the length of her spine as she gazed up at the Emperor of the Galra as he lounged in his throne. He exuded a casual strength, as though he could destroy her with a flick of his finger if he so chose. She suddenly felt very naked without the comforting weight of her weapons. Her escorts brought her to a stop at the center of the room and each took a knee before their king. Margo remained stubbornly lock-kneed.

“You will bow before the Emperor!” one of them growled, hands inching towards their weapons.

“It's fine,” Zarkon said, raising a hand. His voice was soft but strangely resonant, filling the entire room. The guards sneered but said nothing more, rising and moving to the sides of the room, leaving Margo to weather the emperor's violet stare on her own.

“So,” he said slowly, “this is the infamous Ashen Assassin. Your reputation precedes you.”

She said nothing, put off by Zarkon's nonchalance, but offered a nod in reply.

“To think, an Illarian that managed to avoid the power plants and rise into notoriety as a mercenary. It's quite impressive,” he continued, a faint gleam in his eye. Margo gritted her teeth. He was baiting her, she knew it, but she couldn't help the fury that burned in her chest.

“I've got my reasons,” she told him. Her fists clenches without the strap of her rifle to fiddle with. She felt her nails bite into her palms.

“Of course,” Zarkon conceded with a dip of his head. “But you aren't here to hear about your own achievements. The Empire has use of your skills. There have been a few... thorns in my side I'd like to be rid of.” He pressed a finger to the console on his throne and a projection shimmered before her. The image of five mechanical lions appeared, below which were snapshots of five people that didn't match the description of any race she'd encountered before.

“These are the Paladins of the Voltron Lions,” he told her. “Together they are perhaps the greatest threat to this Empire. I've employed methods before to capture the lions with... mixed results. And this-” he hit another button and the photos of the Paladins moved aside to make room for one of a beautiful woman with dark skin and silvery hair, “-is Princess Allura, the last of the Alteans. She is perhaps even more dangerous. Your job would be to bring me the heads of these six individuals.”

Margo scrutinized the photos, committing the faces to memory. She had heard of the Alteans. They had been the first to fall to the Galra Empire. They were also supposedly the creators of the mythical weapon known as Voltron. She had been incredibly skeptical of the stories when she first heard them, but here was the Emperor of an empire telling her that the old cradle stories were true. She raised an eyebrow.

“What am I getting out of this?” she asked bluntly, and felt the tension spike as the guards in the room balked at her boldness. She wasn't sure what they were expecting. You hire an assassin, you better be able to pay.

Zarkon chuckled and the sound was less than comforting. “Do this for me and you will never want for anything. You may even be able to quit your life as a killer.”

Now _that_ was an interesting prospect. To want for nothing... all the energy she could ever need without having to spill another drop of blood... Margo looked back to the faces on the projection. It didn't seem too difficult. These Paladins looked like they had barely seen combat, and Margo was very good at getting in and out without ever having to get close. If she played her cards right, they would never see her coming and she could hang up her rifle for good. She felt the crystal throb in her chest at the thought.

“...Sure,” she said, rolling the words around in her mouth, “I can take these guys out for you.”

Zarkon smiled, his mouth full of sharp edges. “Excellent,” he said, “My soldiers will take you to their last known location.” He waved his hand and one of the guards approached her, dropping a small circular device into her hand. “Use that transmitter once you've finished the job and I will send someone to extract you.”

Margo tucked the transmitter into one of her pockets and, taking it as a queue to leave, nodded again to the Galra Emperor and turned away.

“Oh wait, one more thing,” he said and something in his voice made the back of her neck prickle. She looked back over her shoulder to see the gleam back in his eyes as a figure shuffled out of the shadow of his throne. The old Galra woman was thin and hunched, clothed in long purple robes trimmed in gold. Her yellow eyes stared in Margo's own and she felt her blood run cold. “Just a bit of... insurance, let's say. To make sure you get the job done.” The woman raised her hands and Margo turned to bolt.

A sudden gripping force brought her to her knees and she felt tendrils of invading power rip into her chest. A scream clawed its way free of her throat when it burrowed, dipping deep into her meager energy reserves and began to pull. Liquid energy began to stream from her chest, red as blood without opening a single wound. She felt those precious months of life begin to slip away, winding streaks of gray into hair that had only so recently been restored to a deep red. Her arms shook with the effort of holding her up, and they gave up entirely as the tendrils tore from her. Margo lay sprawled across the throne room floor, panting heavily. She'd been tricked. How could she have been so _stupid_.

Zarkon hadn't moved, having watched the spectacle like it was nothing special. “I'd say you've got about a month left in you,” he said conversationally as the woman gathered Margo's stolen light into her hands. “One month, to finish the Paladins and their Princess. Do this, and I will give you back that which you need to live. I wouldn't bother going to look for more. I guarantee you won't be able to find it.” He signaled for the soldiers, who grabbed her by the arms and began to drag her from the throne room. “I'm sure you'll do your best.”

The door slammed shut, and Margo slipped into darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illarian Biology and Social Structure:
> 
> •The crystal of each Illarian is a unique color, which is echoed in the color of their hair, the sclera of their eyes, and the tips of their fingers and toes. Illarian energy is the same color as the Illarian it came from, and is incompatible with other species until it goes through an extensive refining process, after which it turns white. Opposite colors are lethal to each other; an Illarian with a blue crystal cannot process the energy from an Illarian with an orange crystal and so on. When transferring energy, the same color is always best, though they can also process the energy from crystals close in color on the spectrum. In addition to the central crystal, Illarians have much smaller, secondary storage crystals along the length of their spine, their shoulders, knees, and on the backs of their hands and the tops of their feet. The storage of energy in these smaller crystals is temporary and serve to ease the dispersal of energy throughout their bodies.
> 
> •Illarians are a sexless, genderless race, reproducing through the combination of two Illarian’s energies to form a new crystal, around which the new Illarian develops. Over the course of several months, the two parents must periodically feed the offspring with their energy, until it is capable of producing its own. The color of the offspring is a combination of the colors of the two parents. Though Illarians are genderless, the concept of Gender Identities was introduced to them when they began to interact with races from other planets. While there are those who retain the traditional pronouns, there are those who have taken to identifying with other genders. There are no such things as gender roles in Illarian society.


	3. Chapter 2

When Margo came to it was to a sharp aching in her chest. She groaned, blinking against the darkness at the corners of her eyes, and pressed a hand to her chest. It felt like there was a hole there, like the Galra woman's power had ripped out a chunk of flesh along with months of her life. It was so much worse than how it normally felt to wither away. Her hand clenched into a fist. If she managed to live through this she would make Zarkon pay.

He had known about her condition. Margo was always wary about revealing anything, but there were a few people who knew about it; her family of course, and the friends she had left back on Illarus, and while she had never mentioned it to him she was pretty sure Ajax had pieced it together at some point. Otherwise she said nothing about it, hid her hair beneath a hood as it drained of color and relied on peoples' misunderstandings of Illarian biology. Honestly though, she shouldn't have been surprised by Zarkon having knowledge of it. He had eyes and ears in every corner of the universe. Nothing stayed hidden from him for long.

Now she was bound to him. She would do this job or she would die. It occurred to Margo that this had always been his plan, and that even if she had refused his offer she would have been stripped of her life force all the same and chained to his will. There was a loud clang as she pounded her fist on the metal floor in frustration.

Margo took a deep breath and centered herself. Throwing a temper tantrum wasn't going to get her anywhere, and it certainly wasn't going to get her closer to reclaiming her stolen life. She turned her attention to the hold what appeared to be a cargo ship, where she had been propped up against the wall. Her weapons had been dumped unceremoniously in a pile nearby. Margo snatched them up and put everything back where it belonged, disgusted by the way the Galra had treated her equipment. It was too bad they hadn't managed to activate any of her explosives though. That would have given them a fright. With the weight of her rifle settled onto her back she felt much more like herself and was able to push the feeling of the void in her chest to the back of her mind.

She took stock of her surroundings, taking in the relatively small space of the cargo hold, only about 30 feet long and packed loosely with various canisters and crates. She picked her way to the front of hold and knocked on the door separating her from the cockpit. A purple skinned, yellow-eyed face peered through the window and they didn't seem entirely excited to see her. The glass slid to the side.

“I see you're awake,” the Galra said, eyeing her cautiously. “We'll be touching down in the Paladin's last known location in a few tics. You have your orders.”

Margo bared her teeth and took a step forward and the window snapped shut with enough force to make the glass rattle. They were afraid of her. As well they should be. She swore, the next Galra soldier she saw she was going to pump full of bullets. Still seething, she stomped back into the cargo hold, sat down on a crate and began to look over her weapons. Everything seemed to be in working order; none of her grenades were missing, the moving parts of her rifle and sidearm still moved smoothly, and the blade of her knife wasn't scratched or dented. Margo sighed as she slid the blade back into her boot, just as the hold began to rumble. There were the various sounds of moving parts as the cargo ship touched down and the exit ramp slid open. Margo blinked in the sudden sunlight reflecting off the metal of the hold, picking her way over crates toward the wafting of fresh air.

As soon as her boots hit the dust, the hold closed up and the ship's thrusters burned to life. The edges of her coat flapped around her legs and she covered her face as sand and grit buffeted against her. Within moments the cargo ship was just a shrinking speck against the sky. Margo scoffed, wiping the sand from her shoulders. She figured the cowards wouldn't want to stick around.

Looking around it first appeared as though the Galra had stranded her on some dusty, deserted world. Crag rock and high sand dunes dominated the horizon, glowing orange in the light of a setting star. Scraggly plants somehow had found purchase in the valleys between the dunes. Margo fought her way up the closest one, sliding on the sand in hopes of gaining a higher vantage point to look for signs of civilization. While she wouldn't put it past the Galra to just leave her to die, she didn't feel as though Zarkon would go through the trouble. Up on top of the dune, Margo lifted her hand to her eyes and scanned the landscape. Twinkles of light caught her eye in the gathering darkness. Sitting herself down in the sand, she pulled the sniper rifle over her shoulder and peered through the scope. Sure enough, nestled in the shelter of the rocks was a small town, just beginning to light their lamps for the night. Perhaps the townsfolk would know where the Lions and their pilots were.

She skidded down from the top of the dune and set off for the town. Faint noise grew louder the closer she got, eventually resolving into music, laughter, sounds of celebration, and Margo was baffled. It had been a long time since she'd heard such carefree sounds. There weren't too many reasons to celebrate in a universe ruled by the Galra.

Children ran past her as she entered the outskirts of the town, chasing each other with loud peals of laughter. Multicolored lanterns were strung between the stout buildings built into the cliff sides. The people, tall and skinny and covered in sandy-colored scales, were lounging in store fronts and hanging out of windows to chat with their neighbors, sharing mugs filled with what was probably alcohol if the individuals staggering merrily as they walked were any indication.

Some were beginning to take notice of Margo's presence, peeking curiously, but with some wariness, at the pale Illarian with the long coat and sniper rifle walking among them. Margo ducked her head and moved to get out of the crowd, hoping to perhaps find somewhere quieter where she could gather some information. Before she could quite get away a long arm draped over her shoulder. She flinched away, but they held on with impressive strength. A tipsy local leaned against her side, a lazy smile stretching their reptilian features.

“Eyyyyy, stranger! You came just in time for the party!” they slurred. “Grab a drink! It's not everyday you can celebrate kickin' the Galra off your planet!”

“I'm sorry?” Margo caught them as they staggered, giggling giddily. “How did- what do you mean?”

“The Galra, my friend, the Galra!” they shouted, throwing their hand in the air. “The purple bastards got what was coming!”

“You've... lost me there. You're telling me that your people managed to get rid of the Galra presence here?” she hauled them back to their feet as they leaned into her even more. She wasn't a huge fan of having a drunk stranger cling to her, but at least they were enthusiastic about giving her intel.

They shook their head, chuckling heartily and patting her on the shoulder. Apparently they found her ignorance amusing. “Nah, not us. We couldn't have taken on the Galra if they gave us a thousand years to do it! No, it was the princess and her Lions! They swooped in, all shiny and metal, then they became a giant robot at some point, it was amazing!”

“Lions?” Margo repeated. That had to be Paladins. Could it really be _that_ easy? “Are they... still here?”

“Hmm?” they blinked owlishly at her. The alcohol seemed to have really kicked in at this point. “Yeah, they're still around. Landed their ship out in the desert somewhere.”

“Could you tell me where?” Margo asked, slowly and clearly.

“You're not planning on going out to find them, are you? No, nononono, that's a baaaaad idea,” they slurred, finally pulling their weight off her shoulders and began to push her through the crowd. It seemed that once the townsfolk had seen one of their own interact with her and had yet to have their head blown off they returned to their festivities and paid her no mind. “Desert's dangerous at night. Skrats'll pick you off til you're nothing but bone. Stay the night! I've got rooms open for cheap!”

“That's really not necessary-”

“Nonsense! It's a night of celebration! Tell you what, I'll even give you the night free!” They rushed her through the door of what looked like a tiny bed and breakfast, tripped on their way behind the front desk, popped back up as though nothing had happened, and pressed a key card into her hand. “I'm Tevra, by the way. What'd you say your name was?”

“I didn't, and it's Margo,” she said breathlessly. Tevra's enthusiasm and shameless kindness was beginning to make her head spin. “Are you sure this is okay?”

Tevra waved their hand dismissively. “Nah, it's fine. What can I say, I'm feeling charitable! Go ahead and get yourself settled in Margo! You need anything... I dunno, just yell out the window or something, I'll probably hear you.” With that, they stumbled their way back out the door and into probably more alcohol.

Margo stood in the lobby, staring blankly after them. She... wasn't entirely sure what all had happened there. She hadn't been treated with such hospitality in years, and hardly expected it from a stranger, especially not in this day and age. She looked down at the scratched-up key card in her hand and sighed. Might as well.

The room was a tiny thing, on the second floor overlooking the main road. The locals were still going strong, music and laughter bouncing off the cliff sides and into the night. It wouldn't be hard for her to slip out unnoticed to track down the Paladins in the desert. With the amount of firepower they were apparently packing, they were bound to stick out like a sore thumb.

But apparently the sands became hostile after nightfall, and Margo wasn't looking to eaten. And from Tevra had told her, their battle against the Galra had happened recently. Chances were good that the Princess and her Paladins would be around from another couple days at least, repairing any damage and stocking for another voyage. And the bed did look rather inviting...

Margo sighed again and tossed her rifle onto the narrow bed, shrugging out of her coat and draping it across the back of a chair. She supposed she deserved a peaceful night after the day she'd had.

Her first stop was the small bathroom to wash the day's sweat and sand from her face. The reflection that stared back at her from the dusty mirror was just as gaunt and ashen as she was used to it being with so little time left. Dark circles were carved beneath her eyes, red sclera faded to a runny pink. Her hair, shaved on one side and knotted at the bottom to keep it out of her eyes, was streaked through with strands of silver. She looked nearly as bad as she had before she'd taken that last canister. Quiznak, that had been just that morning. Her fingers, the skin faded from vivid red to dark burgundy, clenched against the rim of the sink. Zarkon _would_ pay. She just had to make sure that she lived long enough to make sure that he did. With a final rueful look back at her reflection, Margo flicked off the light and fell into a fitful slumber.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Planet of Illarus:
> 
> •Illarus is a planet that is primarily desert. The sand is fine and chalky, the land interrupted by plateaus, canyons, and tall, spire-like cactuses, while below the surface sprawl massive systems of caverns where the majority of the flora and fauna live, as well as where the native Illarians practice agriculture. There is one large central landmass with some smaller, inhabitable islands amid a huge ocean. The coasts of the continent are covered in wild jungles that exist in nearly constant volatile weather and is home to large beasts and carnivorous plants. As such, the people build their cities in the desert with architecture specifically suited to maximize the collection and preservation of water.

**Author's Note:**

> The Basics on Illarians:
> 
> • Illarians are characterized by rough textured gray skin and large, crystal-like structures that grow out of their chests. Illarians are able to convert the food they eat into a very potent form of energy that is stored in the crystal in their chests, that can then be delivered to every part of the body, much like a human heart. However, the amount they generate is so great that the excess energy can be siphoned off without detriment to the host. The Illarians have perfected the method of collecting this excess energy, refining it and packaging for general use by other species throughout the universe.
> 
> •Illarians are able to channel their own energy through touch, but it does nothing by itself and requires a conduit to be used. This conduit can be through small machinery or through other Illarians. Since it is unrefined, it cannot be channeled through other organisms. This method is used to accelerate healing in other Illarians, add an extra kick to weapons, or to jump start machines.


End file.
